Shadows of Stone
Page 14
“There they are,” I hissed to Bree, pointing across the warehouse. “What the hell is up with their skin, especially the one on the far left?”
Bree frowned. “Yeah, I see him with some other guys, but I don’t really know what you mean. Their skin looks normal to me. I mean, it’s crazy clear, which I’m jealous of, but that’s about it. I would kill to get rid of my damn acne.”
“No, I don’t mean that.” Frowning, I shot a glance at my friend. “It looks like they’re glowing.”
Bree’s eyes cut sideways, and her jaw flinched. “You sure you don’t want to take your anxiety meds? I feel like maybe it’s a bad idea not to follow the doctor’s instructions.”
“You think I’m making it up.” I took a step away from her, shaking my head. “You think I’m going crazy, even if you like to pretend you think otherwise.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy, Norah, but I think you aren’t quite yourself.” She gestured at the four guys who were still looking our way, watching our exchange with a strange detached curiosity on their faces. “You think they have glowing skin. Pretend for a minute that you weren’t the one saying that. Don’t you hear how strange that sounds?”
I blew out a hot breath and tried not to give in to the flicker of pain I felt deep in my gut at her words. Yes, I knew it sounded crazy. And yes, I’d be skeptical if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. And yes, maybe there was something very wrong with me. Normal people didn’t go around thinking people had glowing skin. But I didn’t feel crazy. This felt right. It felt real.
Though maybe no one ever really feels crazy, even if they are.
“Look, I have to talk to them, even if you think all of this is in my head.” I shrugged and blinked back the tears that were beginning to well in my eyes. “Hell, maybe I am imagining everything. But if I talk to them, maybe I can at least find out the truth. Don’t bother coming along.”
I strode away from her, knowing full well that she was staring after me with a conflicted expression of hurt and worry flickering across her pixie features. I’d told her not to come along, so she wouldn’t. Bree was like that. She always did whatever she could to keep the peace.
As I made my way across the warehouse, the four guys turned to each other before casting one last furtive glance my way. The one with bright glowing skin opened the door, and they filed out of the bar quicker than I could reach them. With a frustrated sigh, I upped my pace, desperate to speak to them before I lost them to the nighttime city streets.
When I pushed open the door, a blast of hot summer air rushed into my face, bringing with it the cloying stench of rotting trash, exhaust fumes, and baking asphalt. The city could turn into a heat trap at the height of summer, even at night, when temperatures tiptoed into the mid-90’s at times.
There were a few clusters of smokers camped outside the gray club, lazily discussing the most recent superhero film they’d seen in the theatre. They didn’t even glance my way when I burst through the doors and whirled this way and that to spot the four strange guys with the weird skin that apparently no one but me could see.
There they were, halfway down the one-way street, walking in the direction of Delancey Street. I rushed after them, picking up my pace to catch up with them. They walked side-by-side, their arms relaxed by their sides. One of their backs stiffened—the one who had followed me into the bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder and caught my eye. In an instant, he’d turned toward the others, and soon they were walking at a speed that was impossible to fathom. They didn’t look as though they were running, but they were certainly moving faster than any normal person could.
They reached the corner within seconds and disappeared to the left. I kept following, though I knew it was no use. When I reached the corner myself, they were nowhere to be seen. They’d disappeared somewhere in the depths of the Manhattan streets, and I knew without a doubt that there was no way in hell I would find them. Not unless they wanted me to.
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About the Author
Jenna Wolfhart is a Buffy-wannabe who lives vicariously through the kick-ass heroines in urban fantasy. After completing a PhD in Librarianship, she became a full-time author and now spends her days typing the fantastical stories in her head. When she's not writing, she loves to stargaze, binge Netflix, and drink copious amounts of coffee.
Born and raised in America, Jenna now lives in England with her husband, her dog, and her four ratties.
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Find her online at:
jennawolfhart.com
jenna@jennawolfhart.com